Intimidation
by Elly Liselle
Summary: A late night visit from the Scarecrow involves more than conversation. Scarecrow knows more than Bruce Wayne thought- but will it help keep him out of Arkham Asylum?  Bruce Wayne/ Jonathan Crane


Intimidation

A Bruce Wayne/Jonathan Crane oneshot

A/N I've had this rolling around my head for a week. I wanted to write a smutty encounter between the two but it is not quite time for that in my on-going Bruce/Jonathan story "Catch and Release." Rather than risk rushing anything in that one, I decided to finally put this one down. This is the longest oneshot I've written to date.

Whereas I read each chapter of "Catch and Release" about ten times before you guys see it, this one is rather unread. I tried to catch problems as I went through, but I'm sure some slipped. Apologies before-hand for that!

Enjoy!

Bruce Wayne exhaustedly passed the piano, wiping away remains of the black face paint coating his eyelids. He felt both physically and mentally wiped out, barely able to stand after a long night of solving seemingly endless riddles. He made his way through the dark room, eyes slowly adjusting to the lightless mansion.

He wiped one hand across his brow. All he could think about was a shower and a long, deep sleep. Maybe he would skip the shower until morning and go straight to bed. The idea appeared more and more tempting as he began hiking up a long staircase. He forgot about the sweat clinging to him, the smell he knew existed but he had merely acclimated to.

Only because Bruce had walked the halls so often did he manage to make it to his room in the dark. He pushed open his door, blinking slowly. He shuffled in, closing the door behind himself before standing still.

Moonlight streaked across the floor, waving as the curtains framing the open window shook in the wind. He frowned- he knew he had closed the window before leaving for the evening. He reached blindly for the light switch, fingers slipping over the smooth wall. Panic nearly began to creep into his heart when fingers grasped the light switch and he flicked it.

He blinked as the room filled with light. As his eyes adjusted he finally noticed the man sitting innocently on his bed, briefcase on his lap, hands neatly folded and sitting atop of the case. Bruce knew what face hid beneath the burlap mask.

Bruce reached for the doorknob, but a hissing voice filled the room. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"You're that madman from Fear Night." Bruce tried to stay in his playboy persona. Batman was left with the suit in the hidden chamber. "Scarecrow. I thought Batman took you to Arkham."

"You thought wrong."

Scarecrow stood from the bed, holding the case with one hand. Bruce reached again for the doorknob. It had been months since Fear Night, months since Scarecrow had disappeared into the shadows of Gotham. Some believed him to be dead; Most thought he simply hid from sight. It appeared the latter was correct.

"Don't open the door." Scarecrow warned. "Not unless you want your butler to suffer."

_Alfred._ Bruce thought with some panic.

"I haven't done anything yet." Scarecrow promised, but it sounded more like a threat. "I wonder what he's scared of?"

Bruce stood perfectly still as Scarecrow took a step forward. "Maybe it's something predictable. Losing his master, perhaps?"

Scarecrow took another slow, deliberate step forward. "Or is there something more, something that even you don't- _can't- _know about?"

Bruce put up his hands. "What do you want?"

Scarecrow was a mere three feet in front of Bruce. "You'll see."

Bruce saw a glint of silver on Scarecrow's arm. Too late he saw the canister attached firmly to the suit jacket the man wore. Bruce flung his arms up in front of his face instinctively as Scarecrow surged forward, arm raising, mist flying into Bruce's face. The billionaire did not know if he would still be immune or if he would find himself facing everything he feared.

Instead, he saw everything go black.

The first thing Bruce registered was a pounding ache in the back of his head. He reached to touch it only to realize his hand never reached its destination. He forced his eyes open, wincing at the sudden bright light. He craned his head to the side, twisting to see red cloth wrapped around his wrists, securing them to the headboard.

_Are those his ties? _He thought he recognized them from the man's days as Head of Arkham.

Bruce looked forward to see Scarecrow emerge from the bathroom. Scarecrow stopped at the foot of the bed, hands reaching up to pull away his mask. Black hair peeked out first, then pale flesh. Blue eyes peered out at him and finally his entire face was revealed, the mask held uselessly in one hand.

Jonathan Crane stepped forward, folding his mask neatly. He sat delicately on the foot of the bed, reaching down to the floor to grab his briefcase. This he lay on the bed, undoing the clasps quickly. He pulled it open and tucked in his perfectly folded mask. Only then did Crane look up at Bruce, looking over the billionaire's face with interest.

"It is," a smooth voice filled the silence, all traces of roughness gone, "incredibly rude to know our faces so well and not show us yours."

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed. What was Crane going on about?

The Doctor gently set his case on the ground. Crane slid forward on the bed, tucking his legs up beneath him. He crawled forward, keeping his gaze locked on Bruce's. He stopped inches from Bruce, knees nearly touching the bound man. Crane cocked his head slightly. He stared at the smooth face as if memorizing the features.

Suddenly Bruce found himself with soft hands framing the bottom half of his face. Crane outlined Bruce's jaw with smooth hands, fingers curving to perfectly surround Bruce's chin. His hands are soft, too soft for a villain.

"Are you ashamed of your face, Bat Man?" Crane whispered softly.

Bruce shook his head, dislodging Crane's hands. "What?"

Crane let Bruce remove his hands, instead resting them lightly on the mattress. "You hide your face so well." he mused softly.

Bruce watched emotions play on Crane's face. A small smirk chased away a contented smile, blue eyes looking slightly above where Bruce's gaze sat. Crane reached one arm out, fingers gently smoothing dark hair away from Bruce's forehead. Creamy skin brushed Bruce's face unintentionally.

The only emotion slinking into Bruce's heart was a light panic. He worked so hard to hide his face from the criminals he fought every night. This was the first time any of them truly intruded on Bruce Wayne, leaving Batman behind them.

Finally Crane looked back to Bruce's eyes. "It took so long to find you... You do cover your tracks well, don't you? Bat Man."

Bruce could _hear _the space Crane left between the two syllables. "What do you want, Crane?" Bruce asked tiredly.

Crane reached up, fingers gently resting on Bruce's face. Bruce went slightly cross-eyed staring at the canister attached to Crane's wrist. It lay flush with the doctor's arm, strap holding it tight.

At least Bruce knew it would not slip and spray him.

Brilliant blue eyes looked deep into dark ones as if searching for something. Eyebrows furrowed, scrunching pale skin. He shook his head in one small swing, hand falling away, looking as if he could not fins whatever it was he had searched for.

Crane slid the side of the bed and stood in one smooth movement. He turned his back on Bruce, taking small steps towards his case.

Bruce took a breath and pulled his arms forward. Fabric strained to hold him in place, but he persevered. Red threads fell as the first tie tore. Bruce saw Crane's head turn towards him, those blue eyes now incredibly wide.

The billionaire did not give Crane a chance to respond, surging forward and off the bed. He landed roughly on Crane, pushing the briefcase away with one hand as he held Crane's armed wrist to the floor with the other. Crane flailed beneath him, trying to push the man away. Bruce tore away the straps holding the canister in place.

Bruce straddled the Doctor, pinning one hand beneath his knee. The other hand he held with one of his own, pressing firmly against the floor. Crane pushed upwards, but the larger frame of Bruce kept him pinned. Bruce gripped the canister in one hand, holding it in front of Crane's face, nozzle directly pointed towards the Doctor's parted lips.

Crane's heart pounded as he looked into the angry face of Bruce Wayne. Bruce could feel the blood coursing heavily through the slender man, a testament to just how far away from Crane's plans they had fallen.

Crane stared, silent and wide-eyed up at Bruce. He took another shattered breath as Bruce's hand slipped and the canister inched towards his flesh. Crane tries to ignore the cold metal so close to him, tried to ignore the fact that it would not be the first time this very man used his own inventions against him.

"Why did you come here, Crane?" Bruce snarled.

Bruce lowered the canister, pressing cold metal against Crane's heated face. Blue eyes shut tightly, wrinkles forming around them. Crane concentrated on normalizing his breathing, slowing the thudding of his nervous heart.

They seemed to sit that way forever, Crane's lips wide and drawing in air, Bruce's in a tight line, nostrils flared in breath.

Finally Crane relaxed into the carpet. Muscles loosened, tension seeping away from his body. His heart rate slowed to its usual pace. He took a deep breath, flesh pressing further against cold metal but ignoring the intrusion.

"I wanted to see your face." Crane whispered, slightly breathlessly.

Red lips pulled wide to pull in cold air. Bruce raised the canister away, some unconscious fear warning him that solution may lay on the nozzle that nearly slipped into the smaller man's mouth.

Bruce tucked the canister beneath his bed, pushing it as far as he could reach without leaving the man beneath him unattended. Bruce re-situated, both hands holding down the Doctor's. He held himself over top of the Doctor, knees digging into the floor on either side of Crane's waist.

Crane looked interestedly up at Bruce. "I suppose you are rather handsome. Not at all what I expected of a man dressing as a bat."

"What did you expect?" A small part of Bruce truly was interested.

"Not this." Crane whispered. "Not some scared little billionaire boy making up for his shortcomings.'

Bruce released Crane's hands. "You did not answer my question, Crane."

Crane reached t fix the glasses slipping down his nose. He slid along the floor slightly so that he could sit up, Bruce still perched over his legs. Mere inches separated their faces.

"I am almost disappointed the Bat Man was Bruce Wayne all along." Crane whispered. "I expected someone more... intimidating."

Crane flashed a smirk at Bruce as he slid out from beneath him. Crane stood, smoothing down his rumpled suit jacket. He fixed his tie before smoothing back his hair. He stood and watched as Bruce stood up in front of him, meeting his gaze the entire time.

He suddenly found him hurtled across the room, face pressed against the smooth door. He winced as his arm twisted up behind his back, a firm body pressing him against the door.

_This _he was familiar with. The brute force Batman used to get his way, that was something Crane knew.

"So you want me to be intimidating, Crane?" Bruce growled.

Crane shivered at the sound of the voice of the Batman. "I expected my enemy to be more so, yes."

Bruce grabbed onto Crane's spinning him roughly in an arc. Crane staggered as Bruce let go, sent the man flailing towards the bed. Crane pushed off of the mattress, heading directly for his briefcase. He collapsed to his knees at it side, fingers nimbly working it open.

Firm hands gripped his sides, pulling him up and away from his beloved canisters. Crane struggled for freedom as Bruce forced him up onto the mattress. Blankets twisted as Crane pushed Bruce away, hands uselessly pressed against the billionaire's chest. The easy access only made it easier for Bruce to grab onto them with one hand, pulling the tie from around Crane's neck with the other.

Crane ducked his head, trying to dodge Bruce's attempts. Bruce simply grabbed onto Crane's hair, giving him warning look. He undid the tie with one hand, pulling the fabric from around the psychiatrist's throat.

Crane pulled on his hands as Bruce wrapped his own tie around them. Only once they were successfully tied did Bruce reach for the torn remainders of the other ties. He knotted the pieces together patiently, watching Crane squirm. He looped the tied pieces through Crane's restraints, then through the headboard. He knotted it tightly, ignoring Crane's struggles as he did so.

"Have you seen a psychiatrist, Bruce Wayne?" Crane asked in a soft, smooth voice. "I'm sure he would have a _field _day. Why don't you talk to me, I won't even charge-" A smirk crept onto his face as he spoke.

Bruce interjected. "Shut up."

"Is the Prince of Gotham unused to not having his own way?" Poison slipped into the psychiatrist's voice.

"What do you know?" Bruce muttered. "What could a criminal possibly know?"

Crane's infuriating smirk grew. "More than you think."

Crane winced as Bruce gripped his chin firmly in one hand, fingers digging into pale flesh. He stared into dark eyes, some sick satisfaction twisting his stomach into knots. Bruce's fingers tightened, clutching onto Crane.

Bruce's other hand reached lower, impatiently pushing Crane's legs apart. Crane resisted, but Bruce insisted. Bruce tucked one knee between Crane's legs, using it to push away one leg as his hand pushed irresistibly pushed away the other. He inched forward, forcing his way.

Crane swallowed as Bruce's fingers loosened, fingertips running down his face almost tenderly. His hand moved further down, lightly dusting over Crane's throat and landing on his shoulder.

"What do you want, Bruce Wayne?" Crane whispered. "All you've asked is what I am here for. I told you."

A tiny smirk crept onto Crane's face. "I have what I want. But what exactly is it that you want?"

Crane took a deep breath as Bruce pushed him flush with the headboard. His arms stretched slightly over his head, tied to the wrought iron decor lacing the top of the wood, fingers uselessly twisting through the air. His back sat straight against the wood, unable to relax even if he wanted to.

Bruce pushed against Crane, hands spread on his black shirt. He could fear Crane's heart pounding wildly beneath his fingertips. Bruce ducked his head, lips nuzzling Crane's throat. Crane raised his head, resting it against the headboard, exposing pale skin. Bruce ran his lips over Crane's neck, felt the racing pulse.

"I have to take you back to Arkham." Bruce sounded as if he was reassuring himself. "No one would believe you if you said _Bruce Wayne _was the Batman."

"Such a turn-on, Wayne." Crane murmured. "Insult my credibility and promise my return to Hell."

"You don't have a place outside of Arkham." Bruce reminded him.

"I can start again." Crane whispered.

Bruce raised his head to meet Crane's gaze. "You broke into my home, threatened my friend, and are carrying a case full of assorted toxins. And you expect me to believe you're starting over again?"

"I wanted to see your face." Crane said it as if it explained everything. Maybe, in Crane's mind, it did.

"And what are you going to do now that you've seen it?" Bruce leaned in to whisper in Crane's ear.

"Take my case and disappear." Crane promised. "I am finished with Gotham City."

"Leave your case."

"I need it."

Bruce shook his head. "You leave it _here_ and promise a reformation. Then maybe I leave _you _out of Arkham."

Crane looked over Bruce's face, saw nothing but sincerity. "Give me my case."

"I can't."

Crane strained forward. He ghosted his lips over Bruce's cheek. "Yes you can."

Bruce stared into brilliant blue eyes a moment. Crane continued speaking, voice a small whisper. "You can help me. Let me keep my case."

Crane's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Bruce undid the fabric tying his wrists to the headboard. Bruce gripped Crane's sides, pulling him forward, Bruce turning so that Crane lay over his lap.

"Wayne?" Crane questioned.

Crane shifted as Bruce's hand furrowed between their two bodies, fingers playing with the zipper of Crane's pants. Crane did not argue as the zipper opened, nor as Bruce's hand retreated and both hands pulled Crane's pants down over his ass.

"What are you doing?" Crane turned his head to see Bruce's face.

"I'm doing what I want." Bruce smirked.

Bruce's fingertips slipped beneath the waistband of Crane's black boxers, pulling insistently. Crane refused to raise his hips and help the process along. Bruce chucked and yanked them down anyway, cloth gathering at Crane's knees. He pushed it the rest of the way off.

Blue eyes widened drastically as a hand made swift contact with his bare flesh, loud _smack _resounding in the room. Bruce raised his hand again, preparing for a second strike.

Crane kept perfectly still during Bruce's onslaught. Eyes squeezed shut, ignoring everything around him. Only the consistent laps of Bruce's hand on his flesh kept him fully grounded.

It felt like _forever. _Crane wondered if it had been, if they had always been sitting that way, Bruce perched and ready for attack. He winced in pain as Bruce's hand came down harder.

"Wayne!" He hissed. "Enough."

Bruce's hands rested lightly on his throbbing ass. "Have I made my point?"

_There was a point to all that? _Crane wondered.

Bruce slid out from beneath Crane, standing on the floor in one move. Crane bit back angry words as he righted himself, struggling to sit up without proper use of his hands and a searing pain in his backside.

Bruce reached out to help him sit upright before undoing his fly. Crane watched as Bruce unabashedly stripped to nothing, dropping clothing piece by piece to the floor. Only once bare did Bruce kneel on the bed beside Crane, keeping eye contact.

"Hey," Crane protested as Bruce twisted his fingers in Crane's shirt and tore.

"Don't worry about it." Bruce whispered.

Crane could do nothing but stare as Bruce gently tore strips and patches from Crane's shirt, removing the pieces individually and throwing them to the floor.

Bruce crawled onto the bed, leaning comfortably against the headboard. He reached out slowly, hands landing lightly on Crane's hips. He gently directed Crane towards him, smiling when Crane followed his silent instructions. Bruce helped Crane settle over his waist, Crane's knees parted, resting on either side of Bruce's waist.

"Is this what you came fore for, Crane?" Bruce whispered with a smirk.

Crane hung his head, looking away from Bruce. Bruce watched a deep breath shake the slender body. He opened his mouth to question Crane when the latter raised his head and looked directly at Bruce.

"This is nothing I would ever have anticipated." Crane said quietly but firmly.

Bruce looked over Crane's determined face. "Are you..."

"I am surprised." Crane whispered. "I never expected the Bat Man to indulge in carnal pleasures with his enemies. Tell me, was Joker in this bed last night?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "No. He was not."

"Am I really that special, then, Mr. Wayne?" Crane smirked. "Or perhaps you have a fondness for-"

"Be quiet." It was Batman's voice that escaped Bruce's lips.

The corner of Crane's mouth twisted upwards. "There is the Bat."

Bruce leaned forward to nip at Crane's ear before murmuring. "I am more than _Batman, _Crane_. _But what I want I can never ask anyone in Bruce Wayne's life for." He pulled back to look over Crane's face. "So I have to take it from Batman's."

"And what," Crane whispered, "do you want?"

"To feel."

Crane gasped as Bruce bit the junction where neck meets shoulder. Bruce reached beneath the pillows, searching blindly with his fingers. Crane glanced down to see Bruce pull out a small bottle of lotion.

"And I suppose I am going to assist you with that?" Crane looked into deep eyes.

"You don't seem to mind."

"The body does not mean much to me." Crane eyed the bottle in Bruce's hand.

"It will." Bruce promised.

Crane heard the snap of the bottle as if it were a firecracker. It seemed to be the only sound he could hear at the time, consuming his thoughts. It was more than just a sound- it was anticipation of what he _knew _would happen next.

He watched in mild interest as Bruce spread thick lotion on his fingers. Bruce glanced up to meet his gaze only a moment before dropping the bottle aside and holding onto Crane's hip with his clean hand. The other sneaked between Crane's legs.

Crane's hands strained for freedom as a finger lightly traced a circle around his entrance. "Release my hands." he demanded.

Bruce smirked. "Not until you beg for it."

Crane glared at him, eyes closing involuntarily as Bruce slipped inside. A small moan escaped Crane's red lips. He forced his eyes open to stare at Bruce's face. Something akin to tenderness etched itself into every line of the billionaire's face.

Bruce smiled at Crane as he slipped-forced- in a second slippery finger. Crane grit his teeth, refusing to make sound. He tried to still his slight quivering as Bruce's fingers parted, stretching him wide. The sound of his heartbeat filled his ears.

Bruce's fingers joined together and curved, running over Crane in a search.

When blue eyes went wide and red lips slack, Bruce knew he had succeeded. Fingers stroked firmly and Bruce attentively watched his Crane's pleasure-struck face.

"...please." Crane could barely hear himself: He knew Bruce would not have been able to. He spoke louder, voice cracking and shattering. "Please. Batman, _please." _Words fell from his lips like prayer.

Bruce smiled. He withdrew both fingers, gently pushing Crane onto his side. He reached around to undo the many knots keeping him restrained. As soon as the cloth fell away Crane surged upwards, hands gripping Bruce's face as he smashed his lips against the billionaire's.

Bruce traced Crane's lips with his tongue. A soft moan was swallowed into Bruce's mouth as Crane parted his lips. Bruce reached up to take Crane's hands from his face, holding them tightly in his own.

Crane pulled away, breathing deeply. He let a small smile creep across his face as Bruce released one hand, reaching up to carefully remove Crane's glasses. Bruce stretched his arm to gently set them on the bedside table.

Crane backed away, sliding teasingly down the bed. Just as he expected, Bruce followed. Crane smiled as he gripped Bruce's shoulders, pushing forward, putting his entire body in pressing Bruce back to the bed. Bruce allowed himself to fall back, smiling gently as Crane moved to straddle him.

He immediately reversed their positions, pinning Crane to the bed.

Crane started fidgeting, pushing Bruce's chest uselessly. Bruce pushed down, refusing to let Crane up. Crane dropped his hands from Bruce's chest, fingers twisting in the sheets as Bruce moved in closer.

Bruce bit back a groan as his erection slip-slid between Crane's cheeks, sliding teasingly past his entrance. Bruce looked into brilliant blue eyes and saw the fear he saw only while in a black suit. Bruce immediately stilled, only then feeling the tremors that shook the slender man. Crane's face was a blank mask, hiding every emotion, but he could not stop the shakes wracking his body. Crane avoided Bruce's gaze, chin lowered.

Bruce gripped Crane's chin in one hand, forcing the man to look at him. Crane suddenly looked so much younger, out of his depth and terrified.

"Crane, I..." Bruce did not know what to say. He stared down at wide eyes, watched as the start of a tear grew. "Jonathan... I'm so sorry."

Bruce sat up slowly, looking over the form beneath him. The organ he for a fact had been erect was limp, laying against Crane. Crane scrambled to sit up, turning immediately so that his back was to the billionaire.

Crane breathed deeply, smoothing back sweaty hair with one hand. He turned his head slightly to see Bruce staring at his back, regret and sadness in his eyes. Crane took another breath, forcing in the shaky air.

"D-don't restrain me." Crane commanded.

"Jonathan, I..." Bruce sat still as Crane turned around completely.

Crane crept forward, keeping his gaze level with Bruce's own. His knee bumped the billionaire's and he stopped. Soft hands reached to cup Bruce's face again. Crane leaned in slowly, eyes closing. Bruce closed the distance, stealing Crane's lips for his own. Crane pushed forward, chest flush with Bruce's. They both sat tall on their knees, Bruce resting his hands on Crane's sides.

Bruce pulled away first, breathlessly whispering. "Are you okay?"

Crane nodded. "Yes."

"You're sure-"

"Make me feel." Crane reflected Bruce's earlier wants back on him.

Bruce gripped Crane's hops as he moved back, continuing until he hit the headboard. "Okay."

Crane crawled onto Bruce's lap, legs spread on either side of the billionaire. Crane gave Bruce a small, but honest, smile as he reached between them to take Bruce's erection in hand. Crane aligned himself slowly, carefully pushing him on.

Bruce watched as Crane's teeth sank into his lower lip. Crane stopped moving, legs straining. Bruce held tightly onto the man's hips for support. Crane's hands flew to Bruce's shoulder, fingernails digging into his flesh as he forced him around Bruce.

"Don't, you're hurting yourself." Bruce whispered.

Crane looked over Bruce's face. "This is nothing." he murmured.

Crane let himself slip the entire way down. Bruce groaned, wanting immediately to begin thrusting into Crane's warmth. Only Crane's pained mewling kept him still. Hot pants left Crane's mouth, cascading over Bruce's shoulder. Crane rested his head against Bruce's, eyes squeezed closed.

"Alright..." Crane whispered, almost to himself.

With that, he pulled himself up before throwing himself down. Bruce's nails dug into pale flesh unforgivingly. Crane, if he cared, said nothing. He continued his slow movements, pulling and pushing alternately. Sweat wet his hair, shining on his face as he moved.

"Jonathan..." Bruce moaned.

Crane's moans were unintelligible, muted sounds of absolute gibberish to Bruce. When Crane raised his hips, Bruce pulled down. The billionaire snapped up, trying to make his way deeper into the smaller man.

"Bruce!" Crane screamed.

Bruce surged forward, toppling Crane onto his back. Crane stared at him, wide-eyed, a moment, before Bruce began to move.

"Ooh..." Crane's nails raked down Bruce's scarred back, adding his mark to the collage.

Bruce could not possibly last long. He reached between their bodies to take Crane in hand, fingers curling. Crane released a loud moan as Bruce began to stroke.

"Don't ever stop..." Crane murmured breathlessly.

His wish was not obeyed. White ribbons coated Bruce's hand, sending shock waves throughout Crane's entire body. Bruce grunted as he released inside Crane, thrusting once more before pulling out. Crane blinked slowly, sleepily.

"Shower?" Crane murmured.

"Go ahead." Bruce mumbled.

Crane saw that Bruce was not standing and sighed. Bruce rolled aside, off of Crane. Before Crane could stand and make his way to the bathroom, Bruce threw an arm over him.

"That Bat Man cuddles?"

"Hush." Bruce commanded.

Crane smirked. He did not resist as the other sweat-soaked man drew him into his arms.

If the Bat wanted to cuddle, so be it.

One month later, Batman gripped Scarecrow's arm in one hand, searching the briefcase he had found in Scarecrow's hands with the other. He recognized every canister inside.

Batman sighed and slammed it shut. He turned to the Scarecrow, lifting the struggling man in his arms. He gripped the Scarecrow and the case and headed for Arkham Asylum.


End file.
